on tour with a Scottish fast food fanatic…

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Surf and Turf

The last two days in North Cornwall have taken us over plenty turf (some old and some new) and we have really enjoyed watching the sea from the wonderful coastal path. It’s been a little windy and overcast, but it’s been warm and the landscape is quite dramatic in these conditions. My photos don’t do it justice.

We were determined to return to Portwenn again this year (Port Isaac if you don’t watch Doc Martin – you sad, sad individual…) and so we ignored the dreadful mist and hit the road early to get a little of the Doc’s medicine.

The edge of Port Isaac from the spot where the Doc saved his aunt after a funny turn

My paltry little Cornish Pasty with Doc’s house in the background.

We didn’t overstay our welcome in Portwenn. It was just a joy to be there again though.

We had an appointment to keep at another location we missed out on last time due to considerable amounts of overeating. This was not going to happen again so we walked out little socks off to build up an appetite and ate very little until we got to Padstow.

Padstow is known locally as Padstein because he has so many restaurants in the place. You can get everything from fast food a la Stein to high cuisine.

Rick Stein’s fish and chips were well worth the wait. It was an unusual restaurant experience – we arrived bang on opening time with a big queue outside. We then got in to the restaurant where everyone sits at bench tables (we sat in the window so we could hide our chips from passing chip-snatchers). Then the waiter took everyone’s order (everyone in the restaurant) before placing the check in the kitchen. Lucky it was fast food because I was getting twitchy waiting for the grub.

He doesn’t own this shop though.

and it’s blooming marvellous.

These pictures really don’t do them justice. On the left toffee, popcorn cheesecake and on the right raspberry and coconut sandwich. We ate this AFTER the fish and chips. Dear God, we were stuffed. We could not walk any further so off to the pictures.

The IMAX theatre at Chez Daisy.

Our campsite was near Newquay and so today we decided to walk off all our calories by taking the coastal path to the town and feast lightly.

Surf along the coast

A little cove with more surf and rocks and stuff

My meagre Cornish Pasty for lunch

We had ice cream of course and watched surfer dudes and dudettes doing surfing stuff on the many beaches along the coast.

I loved Newquay. It’s a little tired looking in the town but the tacky amusement arcades and cheap bucket and spade vendors kind of fit the whole seaside holiday thing. The best of it is the many beaches and the caves at low tide. We were blessed to be there at just the right time.

Now you will remember (if you are an avid blog follower) that last year we had a bit of a lark at Durdle Door. Try saying it and you will remember it.

Swedish Chef? The Muppets?

It appears that Newquay at low tides if thoroughly durdled with doors, and caves too! It’s a joy to muck about on the beach.

And for your final delight I was overjoyed to capture a Red Kite hovering on the cliff-side yards from our path. I just managed to get the damn iphone to open up and record t catch it dropping on its prey. It’s a bit of a Where’s Wally image but I could not resist sharing it.

Sadly we leave Cornwall now but heading to Dorset for a night tomorrow and then its the long road home.

A final thought though. I wonder where you are on this.

As I have enjoyed the English countryside so much I was tempted this afternoon to make a purchase of a little English flag to pop into my backpack in support of the team in Russia (don’t all scream at once!).

My good lady almost collapsed on the ground in front of me, mortified at the very idea. In truth – the fact that I had even suggested it appeared to create an air of despair and horror in her entire demeanour. Our relationship, normally happy and loving, was suddenly cold and distant for a few moments.

What is this deep rooted fear of the English being successful?

Tonight I was reminded of why. Listening to the local radio the DJ commented on the ongoing match against Tunisia (1-1 as I write).

‘I guess there can’t be a single pub in the UK this evening that isn’t packed with football supporters.’